Trishasti Shalaka Purusa Caritra Part 1

SR No.: 001001
Original Sutra Author: Hemchandracharya
Author: Helen M Johnson
Publisher: Oriental Research Institute Vadodra
Publication Year: 1931
Total Pages: 565
Language: English
Classification: Book_English, Mythology, Story, N000, & N010
File Size: 11 MB

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whose lotus-eyes were injured by disease caused by unceasing tears on account of the separation from her son, announcing himself, “Your eldest grandson bows at your lotus-feet, O Lady." Lady Marudevā gave her blessing to Bharata and uttered a speech that was like the sorrow that would not be contained within her heart. “My son, leaving me, you, the earth, his subjects, and wealth, as if they were straw, has gone away alone. Alas! Marudevi does not die easily (or she would have died of grief). Formerly, my son's head was shaded from (even) the heat of the moon by an umbrella ; now his whole body is burned by the heat of the sun. Formerly, my son traveled by conveyances with pleasurable gaits, such as elephants, etc.; now he goes on foot in a way suitable for guides. Formerly, there were beautiful chauris waved by courtesans : now my son is attacked by gnats, mosquitoes, etc. Formerly, he lived on divine food brought by the gods; now his food is alms and, just now, even no food at all. Formerly, there was a splendid seat on a jeweled lion-throne: now my son, like a rhinoceros, does not sit at all. Formerly, his abode was in a city protected by guards and bodyguards; now my son's abode is in a forest, the home of lions, snakes, and evil wild animals. Then there was singing by Apsarases, an elixir of nectar for the ears; now the howls of jackals pierce my son's ears. Oh, the misery, the misery to think that in the rainy season my son endures floods, like a tender bed of lotuses. In the winter season, he is constantly reduced to a state of misery from subjection to cold, like a jasmine-stalk in the forest. In the hot season, he experiences extreme burning from the cruel rays of the sun, like an elephant. So in all seasons, dwelling in the forest without shelter, like a low person, alone, my son is an object of sorrow. Seeing my son, as if he were before my eyes, burdened with pain, I torment you too, alas! by constantly speaking in this way.”